What It Is To Burn
by four.point.O- for a day
Summary: Just your usual angst/romance fic, harry's in trouble but who is it who'll save him? Deffinately not the first person to come to mind. eventual h/h pairing to a degree.. kinda twisted, hope you enjoy.
1. Default Chapter

Like a bad storm, I'm falling. She burns! Today's on fire, the sky is bleeding above me And I walk faster I walk these lines of blaspheme everyday She's the only one who knows what it is to burn No sympathy. Safe in here, from the world outside What's the price to pay for glory? I'm falling faster down to her She's the only one who knows what it is to burn Today is fine, and she burns And she burns. She BURNS!  
  
(some lyrics from FINCH)  
A/N: yeah, I was listening to some music and I felt really inspired to write some angst. weird, motivated for angst, but oh well. I've got a great idea for what this story could become, but I'd like to hear what you think about it right now.  
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WHAT IT IS TO BURN  
Chapter 1 : A Rude Awakening  
Slowly, almost painfully Harry opened his eyes. The first thing Harry saw was the toneless sky beyond his window. It was gray, and haunting. Much like his dreams the night before. It looked as though there was no sky as it is commonly known, but rather a damp blanket had been thrown carefully over the world, slowly smothering its innocent victims while whispering sweet words in their ears. Harry shut his eyes tightly, and opened them again not bothering to move from his face down position on the bed. He preferred his day to start off like this.  
  
The house was silent, dark, and abandoned. A mere shell of what it usually was. Number four Private Drive was usually a busy household. Loud and annoying is what Harry would call it, although it was anything but that this week. The Dursleys had left for Spain the day before. As Harry was informed, one of Vernon's Uncles had died there and they left to attended his funeral, and perhaps vacation for a bit. Harry wasn't completely sure of what exactly had happened since he hardly paid attention to his boisterous 'family'. All he knew was that he had the house to himself for an entire week. No Vernon to abuse him, no Petunia to order him about, and no Dudley to punch him in the ribs when his parents were ignoring him.  
  
Harry would've smiled at the thought of being alone if his mind wasn't so preoccupied. He couldn't stop thinking about death.. about Cedric's death, about his parents, and mostly his own. It was hell being a fifteen-year-old boy, let alone a celebrity who's own life was in constant mortal danger. He was tired of it. No one should be born just to suffer a life with no love and support. Why would God, if there was such a thing, ever create a person to live such a pathetic existence? Wouldn't it just be easier if he died? The thought stayed with him as he stared into the gray outside.  
  
Suddenly the doorbell buzzed, shattering the suffocating stillness like bottle being smashed on the hard pavement. Harry blinked and looked at the watch he stole from Dudley. It was about ten in the morning. Harry rose stiffly from the warm bed, grabbed his glasses, and headed slowly downstairs to the front door, which rang again impatiently. He already knew who was standing outside, he thought to himself, slightly slowing down. It would be Mrs. Figg, the widowed neighbor with slightly blue hair and brown tea-stained teeth. She wore an old, moth eaten shawl that was an odd shade of stale yellow, which clashed terribly with the orangey-pink lipstick she was constantly advertising. She was probably holding a cup of tea in one hand, and the daily newspaper in the other. How she could ever stand to leave her cats long enough to check in on Harry was a mystery in itself, but somehow she managed. Like the Dursleys would ever leave Harry alone completely unsupervised, he thought miserably. Harry quickly opened the door as she laid onto the buzzer for the third time.  
  
"Oh, hello deary," she flashed her tainted teeth and released the siren, "I thought you might still be asleep."  
  
Harry stepped back as she let herself in. Indeed she looked exactly how he had pictured her. Maybe a bit more tousled than usual. He took her shawl, and placed it on the coat hanger in the uncomfortably small entryway. She surveyed him silently as he shut the door softly.  
  
"It looks as though I did wake you up." She said curtly, "Well I'm sorry, but it is ten. I waited till I finished feeding the cats before I headed over. Go upstairs and change, I'll just busy myself by watching some programs on the telle."  
  
Harry headed silently upstairs, as he heard the door to the parlor open and the animated voices of some soap opera characters speak to each other. So much for a quiet morning alone, he thought despairingly as he stepped into the bathroom.  
  
After taking his time changing into some jeans and a comfortable old shirt, he headed back downstairs, back to the old woman who now occupied the bottom floor like some unstoppable rebel force. He pushed the door to the parlor, and cautiously looked in. The television was blasting an advertisement for laundry detergent. A solitary teacup rested on the tiny table before the sofa, the paper placed next to it. But there was no sign of Mrs. Figg.  
Boring, yeah kinda but it gets better, trust me.. 


	2. The News of the World

A/N: Hey guys, so here's the next chapter. a little revealing. so enough about me, read on! By the way, I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter, with exceptions of the available merchandise of course.  
WHAT IT IS TO BURN  
Chapter 2: News of the world  
Harry looked wildly around. How could anyone just disappear like that? He thought to himself. As if on cue, Harry heard a light clink of metal coming from the kitchen. Cautiously he moved through the parlor toward the kitchen door, silently wishing he had his wand with him. Slowly he opened the door and peered inside. Mrs. Figg was fixing herself another cup of tea, waiting patiently for the kettle to scream. Why did he just freak out over nothing? Was he falling apart? The stress of his last month of school would've been more than enough to press anyone to the edge of nervous breakdown, his mind reasoned with him. But Harry couldn't help feeling slightly ashamed. If he was supposed to be this great hero, why was he acting so paranoid? Dumbledore had his home protected from all the evil curses or presences that tried to penetrate it. Maybe he wasn't ashamed, maybe he wanted there to be some deranged Death Eater standing over the kettle instead of this batty old woman. He sighed heavily and entered.  
  
"I'm making some ore tea, would you like a cup?" She asked nicely.  
  
"Sure, why not." He answered roughly. Harry sat down at the table, and stared blindly at his hands. He cleared his throat as an uncomfortable silence filled the room. Mrs. Figg was watching Harry from the corner of her eye. The kettle was the first to speak.  
  
"Right then," Mrs. Figg said as she busied herself pouring two cups of boiling water and placing tea bags inside them. "here you go love."  
  
Harry took the cup and nodded his thanks. He watched as the tea from within bled out in slow spirals, slowly changing the clear water to a pale tan.  
  
"What's the matter darling?" Mrs. Figg said in a motherly fashion. She sat down across from Harry, and the chair squealed in pain.  
  
"What, oh.nothing. I just, -er.nothing." He tried to smile, but failed miserably.  
  
"Go on deary, you might feel better if you say whatever it is that's bothering you." She soothed. Harry busied himself by removing the tea remains from his cup and added some honey. When he finished he took a sip, and set it down slowly. What would she know anyways? He looked carefully up at her, she was still staring at him, a pleasant expression on her face. He looked at his tea, which reflected his face back at him like some weird mirror. He looked horrible, and felt even worse. Harry sighed. Well it couldn't hurt, he thought.  
  
"Last year at Hog- erm, School, I had a really bad year. Not just really bad, extremely miserable. Something terrible happened that I could have, and should have, prevented. Now, because of me, more terrible things are almost guaranteed to happen, and there's nothing I can do about it." He said this carefully, not wanting to divulge any information about the wizarding world. As he spoke, images of the previous year flashed before him, like some nightmarish daydream. He looked up at Mrs. Figg.  
  
"It's all my fault."  
  
"No Harry, it's all Voldemort's fault." She said calmly.  
  
"Yes and no, I could've saved Cedric, but wait a sec. what? You know who Voldermort is?" Harry asked, unbelievingly.  
  
"Of course I do, who doesn't?" she smiled mysteriously.  
  
"You said his name?" He stared.  
  
"Well why not, I mean, it is his, isn't it?"  
  
"Yeah, but, I didn't know. I mean, you're a witch?"  
  
"Yes Harry, dear, I am a witch. In fact I'm a retired Auror. Didn't Dumbledore ever explain to you the protection situation here?" She said slightly surprised.  
  
"Well no, not really." He said lamely.  
  
"Yes well, the short, revised, and definitely the briefest explanation would be that I was reinstated as a kind of.lookout. When you arrived all those years ago, I moved in as well. Basically I just keep an eye on you and the surroundings, if I see any funny business I am to report it directly to Dumbledore. That way he always knows what is going on out here." She said this rather quickly, almost excitedly. "Making sure that you did not realize that I was a witch was the hardest thing I've had to do in a long while."  
  
It was like Harry had never seen this woman before. She was like a total stranger. Suddenly he felt like a complete idiot. His life long babysitter had been a witch, and he never knew until she told him. He felt the heat rise under his glasses.  
  
"Well, you did a good job." He said stupidly. His gaze returned to the dark cup of tea. Her expression changed again.  
  
"I was a very good Auror. I was usually sent in for secret missions, a kind of spy if you will. I had to blend in seamlessly. Don't feel embarrassed for not recognizing. I take it as a complement." She soothed.  
  
Harry's thoughts suddenly moved onto Voldemort. All this talk of him, and Harry hadn't heard a word of him since he came back home a month ago.  
  
"So what is the news on Voldemort? Where is he now? Do we even know?" He asked.  
  
"I'm really not supposed to answer that." She said quietly. Harry eyes bore onto hers, and he could tell she was going to give. "But you should know, shouldn't you?" she smiled. Harry smiled meekly in response.  
  
"Actually, we haven't heard from him, mostly from his Death Eaters. They're becoming a strong force again. Working to build their ranks. Old Volde seems to be hiding, but his power of influence isn't. Only the other day, it was divulged that he had several Ministry Officials working for him. The Ministry is always the first to go, and with Fudge in office." she trailed off bitterly. " well, I won't go there. Not today, not over this cup of tea." She looked at Harry. He seemed to be taking it all in. She didn't bother him. Suddenly Harry snapped out of his thoughts.  
  
"You said his influence is all over the ministry? What about the Weasleys? What about the Grangers?" He said, his voice could not hide his worry.  
  
"Your friends are safe." She said slowly. Harry sighed in relief. If anything happened to his friends, Harry knew he could not exist. An image of Cedric flashed before him, he shuddered.  
  
"Harry, I want you to know that nothing is your fault. You need to know and accept that." She placed a wrinkled hand on his wrist.  
  
"I could've stopped Cedric's death." He said tonelessly. He was expecting her hand to withdraw, or at least flinch, but she tightened her grip instead.  
  
"No one could've saved Cedric. Not even Dumbledore, I dare say." She looked him in the eyes. "At least he died with a friend by his side, and not alone."  
  
His eyes were suddenly blurry. He looked away.  
  
"I should've di-" but his sentence was cut short be the sharp ring of the phone. He stood up so suddenly, that the teacup tipped over and the liquid spread quickly over the table.  
  
"Sorry." He mumbled. The phone rang shrilly again.  
  
"Don't you mind, you answer the phone, and I'll clean this up." She smiled warmly. Harry had never been so relieved to hear the phone ring than he was now. He walked back to the parlor, the television was droning stupidly in the corner. Harry had no idea why, but for some weird reason, Mrs. Figg made him want to talk about his problems. It was like she had some unstoppable force to make him almost cry like a baby. He rubbed his eyes angrily, and snatched the howling phone.  
  
"Hello?" He said shortly.  
  
"Er- Harry?" the phone asked surprised.  
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A/N: so, what do you think? I'd like to know, and I think you'll be happy when you find out who's calling Harry. 


	3. The Very Unexpected Call

A/N: Thanks for the review. Anyways, here's the next chap. It'll be mostly the phone call. Right.. On with the show!  
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WHAT IT IS TO BURN  
  
Chapter 3: The very unexpected call  
Harry paused. Who was this he thought? Obviously it was a feminine voice on the line, but how many girls new his number? How many people, for that matter, ever called for him?  
  
"Yeah, this is he." He said slowly, feeling stupid for saying that.  
  
"Oh good! For a minute I wasn't sure. So how are you?" The mystery girl asked.  
  
"Good, I suppose." He sat down on a old chair next to the phone. " I'm sorry, but who is this?" Harry asked interestedly.  
  
"It's me Hermione. Really Harry, I thought you'd recognize my voice." She said laughing lightly.  
  
"Oh, Hi. Hermione!" Harry felt his face heat up slightly. "Sorry about that, I just never get any phone calls, and I've never heard you on the phone before."  
  
"So I sound different then?" She asked.  
  
"Well, a little, but I can really tell its you now. Enough about that, why did you call, is something wrong?" Harry worried.  
  
"No, nothings wrong. I just thought that you might like to talk. I mean, back in our second year you gave Ron and me your number, and I found it in my desk, so I thought why not call."  
  
"Oh, right. Now I remember. So, nothing is wrong then?"  
  
"Harry." She said sounding a bit annoyed.  
  
"Sorry. You called just to talk. Hmmmm." He almost smiled, "What about?"  
  
"You, I guess. Ron and I haven't heard from you since school and I started to miss.. -er, think you weren't talking to us on purpose. We, haven't received any letters and all the ones we've sent have been returned."  
  
"Yeah, that would be this extra-protection charm Dumbledore set up. It's supposed to stop all magical things, except magical people I suppose, from entering this area around the house. I can't send Hedwig out because she'll never get back in. it's very weird."  
  
"Poor Hedwig." Hermione sympathized.  
  
"Exactly what I was thinking. She's getting depressed. Usually she's able to fly around, but not now." Harry said glumly.  
  
"Well, I'm sure there is some way to get around this charm. Doesn't Dumbledore send you things?"  
  
"Yeah, but he has it sent by deliverers. One day, when I was working in the garden, all of the sudden this man appeared from across the street. He walked over and handed me this letter explaining about the field." He didn't think it was right to tell Hermione that he was scared of the Deliverer. For a moment, he was sure the man was a Death Eater. Ever since then Harry had been sure to keep his wand by his side every time he left the house. He really didn't want to Hermione to think he was acting crazy and paranoid. Not to mention he was ashamed.  
  
"Oh." She sounded discouraged. "Well give me some time to think about it, I'm sure I can find someway for you."  
  
"If you couldn't, then I'd know no one could." Harry said matter-of-factly. He could hear her laugh and he smiled, his first real smile since he'd been back. It felt good. His body seemed to lighten as though some heavy weight was lifted from his back. It was right then when he realized how much he missed his friends. Just hearing his best friend's laugh was enough to make his day. It was the best experience ever.  
  
"So, have you gone anywhere lately?" she asked curiously.  
  
"Hermione, like I ever get to go anywhere. I'm lucky to visit the garden." He said sarcastically, but truthfully.  
  
"Well, I thought I should ask, you never know." She said huffily.  
  
"Its alright. Hey, did you visit Victor in Bulgaria?" Harry asked brightly. He wanted to know what Hermione's summer had been like so far.  
  
"Oh. Umm, yeah. It was really fascinating, Bulgaria. Beautiful county and quite a history there. Not that I'm surprised though." She said quickly. Harry could tell she wasn't telling him everything that happened. This bothered him. So he pressed on a bit.  
  
"How's Krum?" Harry asked casually.  
  
"Oh, he- he's fine." She stammered.  
  
"Hermione, what's wrong? I'd think you'd have a little more to say about the trip, it's not like you to not want to answer a question to it's fullest potential." He asked. This was a little unnerving.  
  
"I don't have to tell every little detail, Harry." She sounded cross. "What does it matter if the big jerk's alright or not?"  
  
"Ok. I'm sorry." He didn't want their pleasant conversation to turn into an argument.  
  
"No, I'm sorry. It just wasn't what I expected it to be, I had to leave a little early." She sounded embarrassed.  
  
"That bad, huh." There was no response. Harry thought for a few seconds, trying to find something to say. "Well think of it like this, at least Ron will be acting normally for a change."  
  
"Is that supposed to be a relief?" She laughed.  
  
"Yeah." He laughed too.  
  
"He's going to be so relieved when I write and tell him that I talked to you. Probably a little jealous too." She chuckled.  
  
"Well, he wouldn't be Ron if he didn't get a little upset." He said thoughtfully.  
  
"A little, be reasonable Harry, Ron doesn't get a little of anything. Its either all or none with him." She said confidently.  
  
Harry didn't know how to respond, he was starting to feel bad for Ron's sake. Hermione seemed to feel the same because she then said  
  
"So have you heard anything from Sirius?"  
  
"No, not really. Dumbledore told me that he and Professor Lupin were working together and that they were fine. But that's about it." He said numbly. He missed Sirius dearly and worried about him even more now than before.  
  
"Well Dumbledore would let you know if anything happened." She paused, as if interrupted, and Harry could hear her talking to someone else. "Sorry to do this Harry, but I have to go now. Will it be all right if I call back some other time? The Dursleys won't mind, will they?"  
  
"Actually the Dursleys are gone this entire week, they went to Spain." He said plainly.  
  
"They left you?" Hermione said incredulously.  
  
"And I'm glad they have, or else we wouldn't have had this lovely conversation." He could feel her smiling at the other end of the phone.  
  
"So in other words it's o.k. to call some other time this week?" She laughed.  
  
"Yes, in fact I'll be waiting for it." He smiled again, feeling refreshed.  
  
"Well then I won't disappoint you. Talk to you later."  
  
"Well I hope not, bye." He said brightly.  
  
"Goodbye."  
  
Harry listened for the click of the receiver, and slowly set the phone down. He couldn't stop smiling. Talking to Hermione made him forget all everything he'd felt since he returned from Hogwarts. He actually made a plan, just a small one, but it was something to look forward to. He headed back to the kitchen.  
  
Mrs. Figg was sitting at the clean table, sipping her tea. Harry suddenly remembered what they were talking about before the call. He suddenly felt very foolish.  
  
"Sorry to make you wait, Mrs. Figg." He apologized.  
  
"Never you mind it, so who was it?" She asked politely as Harry sat down.  
  
"Oh, just a friend from school." He said.  
  
"Well, she certainly made your day." She smiled.  
  
"In a way- hey, how did you know that I was talking to a girl?" Would she ever stop surprising him, he thought.  
  
He watched her carefully, but Mrs. Figg only smiled again. She drained her teacup and looked at the small round clock above the stove.  
  
"I think it's about time I head back home. If you need anything honey, just call me. I wrote my number here." She handed him a small piece of paper. Harry suddenly felt like he was being abandoned.  
  
"You don't have to leave, do you?" He said before he could stop himself.  
  
"Well, my kitties are probably wondering where I've gotten too. I hate to worry them, you know?" She stood up slowly and headed toward the parlor.  
  
"Not really." Harry followed. He helped her gather her things, and led her to the front door. The entryway didn't seem quite as small like before. Harry opened the door, and she stepped out.  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow deary." She said merrily, and then Mrs. Figg started the journey across the yard and back to her home.  
  
"See you." Harry replied.  
  
Slowly he closed the door. Today had been the strangest day this summer, and it wasn't even noon.  
  
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A/n: this seems like a good enough place to stop. the next chapter will be fun, but I'd really like to know what you think of the ones right now.. Until next time! 


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